


angel drops

by Kazura



Category: Disgaea (Games)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 09:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13678752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazura/pseuds/Kazura
Summary: There are a few select days of the year that she's sure to come home, no matter what. This is one of them.





	angel drops

As far as Laharl’s been concerned for the first 1313 years of his life, there was nothing special to Ogre 14th. It has always been just another day. Another day to train and prepare himself for the moment he’s to be crowned as the Overlord of his Netherworld. Sometimes, for no particular reason, it’s even another day to sleep through.

But ever since Flonne barged into his life, he can’t quite think of it in the same way as before. It would be difficult to, seeing as every year after they met, she would greet that very day with a brighter smile and an even stronger, more enthusiastic attempt to spread love throughout his Netherworld.

That, and she’d always shove a box of chocolates into his hands. The first time she did, it wasn’t embarrassment that he found striking his heart, but fear. She’s never really been good at following a book’s instructions, and, while he finds it amusing at times, he can never escape this one.

When pressed for answers in an attempt to distract, she’d only simply say, “It’s Valentine’s Day!” As if it was supposed to hold any meaning for him, the first time he heard of it.

Seeing as she’s absolutely determined to keep the tradition alive in his castle, he almost, almost thanks Celestia, when she finally let Sicily help and guide her through the kitchen, even if it’s just for that day alone.

And she pulls through, every time, even after she became an angel herself once more, leaving her with less and less time to spend with any of them as she continued to rise up the ranks.

He won’t admit it, not even to Etna—especially not to Etna—that he found it odd, waking up on that very same day, the first year after she went back to Celestia, and not finding his castle’s walls plastered and decorated with colorful pieces of paper that had been cut up into what’s supposed to be the shape of a heart.

It was a wake-up call that he didn’t ask for, shaking him to his very core and taking his heart with it as reality finally, finally sunk down.

He had half a mind to spend the rest of the day in bed then, despite Sicily’s attempts to convince him otherwise, until the familiar draw of her magic pulled him from the confines of his coffin bed and sent him racing for the Dimension Gate. There, she stood, with boxes and boxes of chocolates and a smile as bright as the skies of Celestia.

This year, she promised, would be no different.

Except, for some reason, she’s running much later than usual.

As he, Sicily, and Etna sit around one of the tables closest to the Dimension Gate, Sicily heaves one of the heaviest sighs Laharl has ever heard come out of her. With night spreading throughout the land, coaxing demons of more violent temperaments to roam about outside, he can’t really blame his sister. “Flonne’s still coming, right?”

Wordlessly, Laharl leans to one side to get a closer look at the Gate behind Meaver. Still nothing. Even Meaver herself is starting to fret, if the glare she’s giving the tablet she often distracts herself with on slower days is anything to go by.

“She would’ve already said something if she weren’t,” Etna says. Having propped up her face with a hand, she’s obviously trying to affect an air of indifference. Except, as Laharl already well knows from the way her tails whipping to and fro behind her, she’s far from indifferent. If anything, she’s just a few more minutes short of marching into Celestia herself to see what’s up.

A call, a Prinny bearing a message, anything would’ve done. But something of that nature coming their way would more or less confirm that she’s not coming this year. It would be a first, but not entirely an impossibility.

He doesn’t want that though. He doesn’t want to accept it. Not now. Not when he’s been itching for this day to come ever since he last saw her a month ago.

“She’ll be here,” he says. “It’s her. She’ll come even if it’s the last hour of the day.”

Sicily beams. “You’re right. It’s Flonne, after all!”

And so they keep waiting, long enough that even Xenolith abandons the spot that every single demon in Laharl's castle has accepted to be his at one corner of the infirmary to inquire about Flonne’s whereabouts.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t go get her ourselves, Your Majesty? She may need help,” he says softly, his frown deeper than usual.

He takes that as a sign.

Pushing himself away from the table, he’s about to whip out his phone when the telltale pulsing of the Gate alerts him to someone’s arrival.

Without even bothering to wait to see if it truly is her, he runs, almost tripping on his own feet as he does so.

His impulsiveness doesn’t go unrewarded. As the light of the Gate fades to its usual soft glow, Flonne stands there, clad in her usual frills and ribbons. In her arms is a huge bag that very likely contains the boxes of chocolate that she means to distribute to his castle’s many, many residents before the day is over.

As she turns to one side, Laharl gets a clearer view of her face and finds a smattering of chocolate smudged across her cheek. Oblivious, Flonne just beams at him. “Laharl!” she calls. “Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m super duper sorry I’m late.”

“Idiot,” he says without any real malice, taking the bag from her arms and setting it down on the carpeted floor. “What happened?”

“Oh, it was terrible!” she gasps, waving her arms around. “See, see, my angels and I were making all kinds of chocolate yesterday. We even made them into super cute shapes, like bunnies and birds and everything. Master Lamington even had cakes made for everyone!”

“Sounds like Celestia,” Laharl says, his lips twisting into a lopsided grin brimming with amusement.

“It does!” Flonne says, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Oh! But then, the chocolates started moving! The birds flew and the bunnies all hopped around! It was chaos everywhere!”

“That…doesn’t sound like Celestia,” Laharl says. He can see something like that happening in a Netherworld bakery or something. Hell, maybe even in his own kitchen. But not goody two-shoes, anal Celestia. “You caught the person responsible?”

“We did, yes,” Flonne says. “It was a trainee. They didn’t mean for it to happen! They just misfired. A-and miscalculated the amount of magic they should use.” Probably in an attempt to lighten whatever happened, Flonne laughs sheepishly.

“Pretty big spell to misfire,” Laharl says, no longer able to control himself and reaching out to wipe the chocolate off of Flonne’s cheek. “But it’s fine now, right?”

“It is! Oh, but the cleaning did take longer than I thought it would. I’m sorry. I thought I could make it, but I lost track of time.”

Seeing her shoulders slump, he gives her cheek a brief pinch, smudging her cheek with the chocolate again.

“Oh, Laharl!” she says, really pouting now as she fishes out a handkerchief from her pocket.

Grinning, Laharl says, “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault. ‘Sides, you’re here now and it’s still the 14th. You did make it.”

She smiles again, softly, gently, and his heart aches and stutters at the sight. She and her smiles always did have that uncanny effect, lighting the fire inside him and making it reach for the heavens.

It's for that reason that there’s a part of him, a small part, that’s grateful for one of Etna’s many deliberate coughs.

“As much as I’d love to just let you two stare at each other all night,” Etna says in a teasing drawl as she grins at them from a short distance away, “Meaver here’s begging me to ‘please, please, please drag Flonne and the Prince away’ from her station, so. Are you two done?”

Laharl glances at Meaver, who doesn’t even bother meeting his eyes as she waddles back to where she often stands next to the Gate. Even with her tablet covering her mouth, Laharl’s sharp ears can clearly hear the giggles that she’s apparently not even trying that hard to hide.

Maybe if he tries hard enough, he can disappear into the folds of his scarf.

Flonne, in contrast, just gasps in unmistakable delight. “Etna!” she says, running for her with her arms open wide. “Hug! Hug!”

A wry smile twisting her lips, Etna welcomes her and even returns the hug. “Hey, there, Flonne,” she says. “Long time, no see, huh? You doing okay these days?”

“I am, yes!” she says, her chin over Etna’s shoulder as she happily rocks them from side to side. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Etna!”

“Yeah, well,” Etna says, not as dryly as she would with literally everybody else, “Happy Birthday, you.”

“Oh!” Flonne says, pulling away briefly with widened eyes, before pulling Etna back in and tightening the hug. “Yes! Thank you!”

Etna laughs, a rare one with evident affection, as opposed to her usual ones that were either from pure, unadulterated amusement or from unabashed mockery. Hell, it’s rare enough that Laharl can’t help his own amusement, grinning despite his quiet desire to pull Flonne away from her adoring public.

Finally, after what might be the longest physical contact Etna has ever had with anyone in Laharl’s presence, Etna gently taps Flonne’s cheek. “Okay, that’s enough of that. If people start getting the idea that I’ve gone all soft, I’m gonna have to blame you, y’know.”

Giggling, Flonne lets go, only to skip over to where Sicily’s been beaming and offering her a hug next.

As he hears Sicily say, “Happy Birthday, Flonne!” Laharl picks up Flonne’s bag from the floor and walks up to where they are, only to realize that they’re one demon short. Walking further, he finds Xenolith waiting patiently exactly where they left him.

“Xenolith,” Flonne coos, having followed Laharl with Sicily still in her embrace, “why are you over here?”

“I thought you and Overlord Laharl would prefer it if you”—he tilts his head, the same way he does whenever he’s searching for the right word—”if you had some…alone time, was it?” He glances at Etna, as if waiting for her approval, and she gives it with a cheeky thumbs up.

Heat rises to Laharl’s face, all the way to the tips of his ears. He’s never really been sure, if Xenolith’s just the kind of demon who can’t bring himself to lie, or if he thinks it’s expected of him to be as honest as possible to his king, seeing as he’s now one of his vassals. Either way, what Laharl does know is that Xenolith doesn’t have a penchant for jokes that make others uncomfortable, which can only mean one thing for Laharl.

He’s become too damn transparent for his own good, especially when it comes to Flonne.

She herself doesn’t seem to think much about it though. “Well, it’s nice to see you again,” she says.

A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of Xenolith’s lips. “Likewise." After a brief pause, in a voice so quiet that he may as well have been just talking to himself, he says, "Welcome home, Flonne."

Flonne hears though. She always does. “Thank you! It’s always nice to be back home, right?”

“It is,” he says, and, for one who finds peace and solace in traversing world after world, that means a lot.

If it were really up to Laharl, neither of them, or anyone else, would leave at all. As Laharl, as simply himself, he would go for the most selfish choice in a heartbeat.

But he’s also their king, which means that, despite his authority, despite his ability to keep them right where he wants them to be, he just can’t bring himself to do it. Not when it would go against what’s really best for them.

Looking up from Flonne’s embrace, Sicily then asks, “Will you still be staying the night this time, too, Flonne?”

“I will! I can stay for tomorrow, too. I hope that’s okay?” Flonne turns to Laharl, a sheepish smile on her face.

He really can’t help it. He grins without the slightest thought of holding back. “’Course, it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

* * *

The plan, after that, was relatively simple, but Laharl should’ve known by then that the Netherworld doesn’t really care much for his plans.

Even as Laharl stands next to Flonne, who still somehow manages to keep smiling with genuine energy as she thanks demon after demon for the welcome-back-slash-valentine’s-day-slash-birthday party they all threw for her, he still hasn’t quite managed to muster enough courage to hand her the box he’s been keeping within the space of the folds of his scarf.

Soon enough, it’s down to just the five of them again. With Flonne giving Etna another hug, Laharl finds himself meeting his younger sister’s eyes.

Away from Flonne’s field of vision, Sicily silently mouths to him, _“Have you given it to her?”_

A finger over his lips, he gives her a frantic shake of his head.

_“Why not?”_

He makes a vague gesture, ending it with throwing one of his hands into the air.

A pronounced pout is all he receives in return for his trouble.

Well. He’s not going to get any help there. And, judging from how Xenolith’s invested in nibbling at the chocolate stars that Flonne gave him, he’s not about to step away from Etna’s side to give Laharl a pep talk either.

How he even manages to eat anything that Flonne gives him without so much as a change in his expression has always been beyond Laharl.

“It’s food,” Xenolith once said, as if he’d nibble at anything as long as it can function as fuel, which says absolutely nothing about what it actually tastes like.

He can’t say what that means this time around then, judging from that alone.

In an effort to distract himself, Laharl whips out the box that Flonne gave him and breaks off a tiny piece from one of the already small bars before popping it into his mouth.

“Oh! How is it, Laharl?”

After a brief moment of freezing in his tracks, Laharl cautiously raises his gaze to meet Flonne’s.

She’s finally let go of Etna, who’s flashing a mischievous smile his way.

She saw. She told. He should’ve have damn well known.

“It’s good,” he says. It’s not even a lie, much to his surprise. It’s not too sweet, and there apparently aren't any disasters with salt this time either. “Better.”

“Yay!” Flonne cheers, bounding over to his side.

“Well then, why don’t you two talk about chocolates?” Etna says, grinning. “I’ll have the Prinnies bring the presents you got to your room, okay, Flonne?”

Laharl glances at the impressive mountain of presents that his vassals somehow made in a corner of the hall, and wonders if it can all even fit in her room.

“That would be very nice. Thank you!”

“All right. See you in the morning then?”

“Mm! Good night!”

Wiggling her fingers at them, Etna mouths one last, _“Good luck,”_ in Laharl’s direction before disappearing out of the hall with both her brother and Sicily in tow.

All too conscious that they’re now alone, aside from a couple of Prinnies poking their squishy heads in to see if they can start moving Flonne’s things now, Laharl takes another piece of chocolate and takes his sweet time chewing it.

Even if as he takes far too long to do that much, Flonne doesn’t complain, smiling and rocking on her heels as she waits for anything else that Laharl might have to say.

All he has for her after he swallows is, “Let’s go.”

She tilts her head. “Where to?”

“Throne room.” Maybe there, in one of the rooms that are truly meant to be his as the king, he can find familiarity and calm his nerves a bit.

And it does help, a little, when they get there. Or maybe it’s the fact that there’s no one else around aside from the two of them.

It doesn’t change the fact that, one, he still has to give her his gift, which is embarrassing in itself, and, two, it’s a very embarrassing gift for someone so dedicated to keeping his image as an Overlord.

She’s worth it though. He’s decided that much when he chose this instead of anything else. Like an action figure. Or one of those limited edition key chains that Sicily got for her. Maybe even something like those colorful seeds that Xenolith picked up from somewhere. He could’ve even gone down the same route as Etna and nabbed whatever he could from the nearest arts and craft store.

No, he chose this. And with the date nearing its end, it’s now or never.

He must have stood there as still as a statue for far too long that Flonne says, “Laharl? Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” It comes out much louder than how he intended it to be that it ends up having the exact opposite effect. As Flonne’s brow creases with worry, he waves a dismissive hand. “It’s fine,” he tries again. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Aren’t you tired from all that stuff back in Celestia and the party?”

“I’m okay,” she says, beaming. “Seeing everyone really charged me right back up.”

Her smile’s far too effective than any smile ought to be. “So what? You don’t need to hold anyone’s hand to get all that…Love Power stuff or whatever anymore? Just seeing’s fine?”

Humming, she tilts her head from side to side. “It’s still faster with holding hands,” she decides with a firm nod.

“You sure you’re not just making that up?”

“It’s true, it’s true! Don’t you think it’s nicer and warmer when you hold someone’s hand?”

He wouldn’t really know. He’s never really thought about it. And whenever Flonne does ask to hold his, he’s usually too busy trying not to spontaneously combust on the spot.

Maybe it is nice. Or maybe it’s just nice to hold hers in particular.

“Laharl?”

“Hm?

“Can I hold your hand?” She has the decency to look sheepish at least.

Inhaling sharply, he reminds himself of why they came here. “In…in a bit,” he says, trying not to sink into his own scarf and willing it to move so he can withdraw the box he’s been keeping there instead. “Haven’t given you this yet,” he mumbles, when she leans forward, eyes wide with curiosity.

“You got me a present, too? Thank you, Laharl!”

Taking an interest in his feet, he mutters, “Say that after you see what it actually is,” before promptly shoving the box into her hands.

“Oh! Okay. Can I open it now?”

Not trusting himself to speak, he just nods and continues staring down.

When he was imagining how this would go, he thought he’d look at her face as she opened the box. Maybe see the exact moment her expression changes from one of curiosity to…whatever it is that she’d be feeling after.

Now, with his pulse raging, he can’t even bring himself to look at her. He’s convinced himself that there’s a tiny chance, a tiny, tiny chance, that she’ll be disappointed, and he’d rather not see that.

And he doesn’t.

“Oh, Laharl! It’s so pretty!” Upon looking up, he only finds delight in her bright, bright smile as she holds up the flower bracelet made of white and yellow beads that he chose. It’s small, simple, maybe even a little delicate. But he immediately thought of her as soon as he laid eyes on it on the day he found himself dragged around by Sicily as she herself looked around for anything appropriate to give her.

There’s still a part of him that’s certain he should have done better. Maybe looked for something that’s more suited for one of the most powerful beings in Celestia.

But she’s Flonne. Flonne, who marvels at the beauty of stars and flowers whenever she can. The very same Flonne who looks at him now with soft, soft affection. And he realizes, maybe he did pick the right thing.

“Can I put it on?” she asks, and that does it.

He grins. “Yeah. It’s yours. Do whatever you want with it.”

Her frilly, frilly sleeve hides it from plain sight well enough, whenever she simply lets her arm fall to her side, and that’s good, he thinks. No one’s going to ask questions. No one’s going to take a guess that it came from him. And that’s fine, for now. He’s not ready for just about anyone else to know, and she herself understands.

But it’s a little part of their Netherworld that will be with her wherever she goes, and that in itself brings him the strangest sense of comfort.

“I love it,” Flonne says, marveling at the way the bracelet looks around her wrist. “Thank you, Laharl.”

“Sure,” he says, watching her with a smile as she raises her arm and giggles.

“Laharl?” she says, when she finally brings her arm down.

“What?”

“Can I hug you now?”

His heart thuds against his chest, and, for a moment, he can’t quite breathe. “I thought you wanted to hold hands?”

She doesn’t pout. Doesn’t sulk. Just tilts her head and asks, “No good?”

“No, it’s…it’s fine,” he says. “Just…don’t tell anyone.”

Beaming, she wraps her arms around him, a gesture that he returns, albeit awkwardly. He’s not against it. Not really. Not anymore. And certainly not with her. But it’s not something he can practice, and, with her spending more time in Celestia than he likes, he doesn’t have much chances to do it with her either.

Which is why, in their lonesome, away from prying eyes, he dares to hold her tightly.

He’s long accepted that she’s not his alone. Her angels need her.

But he’ll be damned if he ever gave up on her completely.

“You’ve gotten taller,” she says, in the same gentle tone that she talks with whenever she takes his hand and professes how much affection she holds for him.

“’Course, I have,” he says, his voice soft in the privacy of the night. “I’m gonna be taller than you someday, too.”

She giggles, and, as close as he is to her, he basks in the sound of it. “That would be nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm. You always wanted to be taller, right? So it would be super nice if it did happen.”

“Say it didn’t,” he says, reaching for a lock of her hair and loosely twirling it around his finger. “What then?”

She doesn’t even pause to think about it. “I’d still love you very much.”

Burying his face into the crook of her neck, he murmurs, “Don’t lie.”

“I wouldn’t lie about that, you silly.”

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling, “guess you wouldn’t.”

“Hey,” he then says, before he gets lost even further in her warmth, “you know what your plans for tomorrow are gonna be?”

There’s far too much to do in the Netherworld after all. She can check up on everyone else. Check up on the garden she left in Florence’s and Sicily’s care, even. She can go shopping with Etna around Sphinx Street, too, if she’d like. Whatever she goes for, he can always go with the excuse that an Archangel such as herself would need someone to escort her around. Keep her safe and all that.

She opts for none of the ones he has in mind.

“I was thinking I could go wherever you’ll take me? Is that okay?”

That startles a laugh out of him.

“Yeah," he says, bringing her closer than ever before. "Sure. Why not?”

**Author's Note:**

> More details on the gifts that the other three gave her (I didn’t get to write about them more in the fic proper, but I thought it might be a nice bonus):
> 
> Sicily - A limited edition Pure Pink keychain that ran out of stock before Flonne could place an order. She was a super sad bird when she missed it, so Sicily tried her bestest to find one for her, and she did!! It cost her a lot, but please don’t tell Flonne that. She also baked the cakes for the party.
> 
> Etna - Decorative flowers and other pretty things for the scrapbook Flonne started keeping ever since Etna began sending her pictures after Flonne returned to Celestia. Also hugs. Etna only ever lets Flonne hug her. Not that she wouldn’t let Flonne hug her if she asked on any other day that’s not her birthday.
> 
> Xenolith - Seeds of a kind of flower that he came across in his travels. It’s the same flower, but the seeds have different colors depending on which region of the Netherworld they're grown (Flonne returns the favor on his birthday by finding and giving him a rock that changes its color whenever held directly under moonlight. He keeps it in its own box instead of just shoving it inside one of his pockets with the rest of his rocks.)
> 
> They're all very soft.
> 
> For more ways to find me, [here's my Carrd](https://artwaltzed.carrd.co/).


End file.
